


It Takes Two To Tango

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, American Baby, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, BAMF Clint Barton, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bad Puns, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Clint Is Charming, Clint Is Different, Clint being Clint, Corny, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dance, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, I Don't Want To Miss A Thing, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned Natasha, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha Isn't Your Typical Woman, Not Really A Slow Dance, Oblivious Steve Rogers, One Shot, Other, Party, Post-Avengers Asgard, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Romantic Gestures, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sarcasm, Science Pick-Up Lines, Short One Shot, Silly, Slow Dancing, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, Steve Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tenerife Sea, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thor Is Not Stupid, Thor Is a Good Bro, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, oh well, the scientist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone deserves a dance with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Don't Want To Miss A Thing: Tony

"You promised."

"I did not, I said it was a possibility."

Having exhausted every option you had been given, you sigh and put your hands up in defense. Tony is still staring down the parts he had been studying when you walked in about twenty minutes prior, but the look he's giving announces that he's been staring at them for longer than he would have liked to. The dark circles that were becoming a more pro-dominant feature of his face barely gave any depth to his eye color. When entering the room, another feature that stuck out, was how damn loud he always played his music.

An idea crosses your mind, so you step toward the stereo that is currently blasting Iron Maiden, searching his songs for something with less guitar solos and more romance. Paying you no mind, Tony keeps fidgeting with different tools on something that currently looks like junk, but you had no doubt he could fix it up. Seeing a classic Aersomith hit, I Don't Want To Miss A Thing, you at least give him the benefit of rocking out to the final air guitar, changing it. 

The second the music stops, for the first time since you came in, Stark glances up at you.

"Don't touch my stuff" he says, distracted from his work for at least the moment.

"You promised" you repeat, and you hear him sigh for the first time in his life, in defeat.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that" he mutters, setting his hands down on the work bench. You smile and beckon him over with your finger. Giving in, he lazily comes to you. Placing your hands on his shoulders, shifting his hands to your waist, just as the music is starting to pick up for the chorus.

Every moment spent with you, is a moment I treasure.

He starts an easy sway, one that you catch onto pretty quickly. There is a space in between you two that you are begging yourself to get the nerve to close, but there's no way you'd have the nerve. Of course, Tony does have the nerve, and takes his chances as he steps closer, the space between your bodies fading with the chorus dying down. You watch his expression for any discomfort, before you settle your face into his shoulder, your arms dropping to loop under his armpits, your hands on his upper back. He is comfortable, warm, and his smell is everything you expected of him, so you breathe it in and cherish it. His hands drop to your lower back, and he rests his cheek on your head.

"I haven't gotten this close to a girl since...well" and you actually hear him, Anthony Edward Stark, get uncomfortable. But you know, so he doesn't finish the sentence. Pepper had decided they were better off seeing different people, and had left the tower promptly after the rest of the team moved in. You don't make him finish, and you never will. Deciding to get some more nerve, you place a light kiss to his shoulder through his greasy t-shirt, and you feel him grinning from the way his cheek lifts against your hair.

"I don't even think you needed lessons, you just wanted to dance with me" he accuses, and he was absolutely right. For once, you wanted him to forget work, forget the problems of machinery, and academics. You wanted him to remember the way he felt with someone in his arms, filling the craving crevices in his skin. Despite the loud ending music, the moment was peaceful. Hearing his breathing, feeling the way his muscles contract and relax when he moves, the way his hands are making home to your skin. 

You wouldn't exactly mind staying in this moment forever.


	2. American Baby: Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony sets you up to go to some party. You meet up with a guy by the name of Clint Barton. And he's not so much of a snobby jerk, so you make a little more than friends with him.

This is definitely not how you wanted to spend your Friday night, but here you are. Dresses slipped around skinny frames, tuxes fitted against toned chests, all the champagne glasses set up on lace tablecloths. Not your normal party either, a company meeting, withheld in the lavish building that you feel if you stepped too hard you'd break. Stark had encouraged you to come just to make friends with some of the partners, and as your boss, he meant for you to flirt your ass out of your outfit. 

Sighing, you take a champagne glass, taking it down like a shot when no one is looking. You, of all people, can at least try to have some charm, so you put on your best plastered on smile and glance around to make a friend. The music is entirely too quiet and calm for your taste, classical violin spiraling into something more modern. If you were as snobby as half of these people, you'd have your nose up to the entire ideal. 

Right in the moment you think to call Tony to call quits on it, you notice a guy about your age. He stands out with his fauxhawk, he's not overly tall, but just enough to make you notice him. Not bad, good taste, but you have to make sure he's material to wear down. Getting closer, you glance down to his hand, no ring glistens against the lighting. 

Perfect.

You get the nerve, messing with your hair and breathing out, you go to him. There was no way to prepare yourself for the man looks up, smiling warmly at you. This is a mistake, he seems harmless enough, you can't do this to him. But you hear Tony's scolding in your head, and you know you have to. For the job. When he notices your lingering stare, he turns straight to you.

"Hello, do I have something in my teeth, or does my hair offend you?" comes his voice, right off the bat, and you laugh sincerely. 

"Quite the opposite, actually." You reply, and he perks his eyebrows in genuine confusion.

"Hmm, what about my outfit, too tacky?" The man fills in, expecting that to be the reason for you to come to him.

"Taking advice from a stranger, what does that say about your character for this company?" You chide playfully, meaning to sound as stuck up as you can.

"Touche." He replies, giving a nod.

"You haven't even introduced yourself, how unprofessional."

"Didn't know I was talking to a judge."

"Didn't know I was talking to a wise crack." His lips perk into a smirk at your quick response, and as if deeming you worthy, he chuckles.

"Clinton Barton, and you are?"

"(Y/n)."

\---

After an hour of joking around with him, you're still fighting yourself about Clint. He is funny as hell, charming in a whole new way, wise, and in every way handsome. Of course, you have to make this duty difficult by picking your type of man. Sitting as classy as you'd like to admit beside him, you two sneak in comments of passerby couples dancing, some are easy to laugh about, some are talented, and some are downright awkward. Your stomach is starting to ache from laughter, and he's sitting at attention, you see his lips moving but the only thing you can think about is that you really have a chance of something more than work here. 

Upon hearing someone else speaking rather loudly in your direction, you glance up at a rather angry looking woman.

"I'd like to see you two get up and dance!" She shouts, offended by something Clint had said, even though you didn't hear him, you probably would have agreed. You're pulled to your feet by his hand on your upper arm.

"Fine then, we will!" He says, leading you to the middle of the dance floor just as the song is changing. You notice it's American Baby by The Dave Matthews Band, and you have no doubt about how you know the song. It's soothing, but romantic, and it makes you smile nervously when you feel Clint's hands on your waist. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you glance somewhere else quick, unsure what will happen if you look straight into his eyes. 

You still make lemonade taste like a summer day.

The rumbling of his chest catches you off guard once again, and you can tell he's mumbling the lyrics quietly. You don't remember getting any closer, but soon you're pressed into his chest, and you don't regret it at all. It's firm and warm and it shapes into yours like it was made just for that purpose. Glancing up, you realize your fear, because those eyes have you on the edge of falling in love with him. For some reason the thought of 'you cannot marry a man you just met' pops up, and it makes you smile. The fact he grins back at you, makes your entire chest feel like you're floating through a current, you're floating and it's thrilling to say the least. 

But you could always make me laugh out loud. Stay, American Baby.

And that's exactly what you're going to do. Stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry for my song choice. I've been wanting to use it since I started writing, and I'm in love with it, plus it's all calm and romantic, so I figured why not. I'm sorry for the shortness and it's like nearly 5 AM, but I did finish it, and it turned out okay. I'm brain dead. I might edit this later. I hope you enjoyed it though, please leave a comment below on how you feel about it or some prompts.


	3. Tenerife Sea: Steve (Edited)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a bad day, so Captain America comes to the rescue. You find that his skin is your favorite lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I EDITED THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE UGH** 8/8/14
> 
> Sorry for the wait and the shortness/shittyness of this chapter. I haven't really been in it lately. I apologize, I'm still trying to work out the next couple of chapters. I've been busy, so I apologize for the lack of posts. Thank you for reading, anyway.

Today, in a lack of better words, was not your day in the least. You knew from the time you woke up, that feeling deep in your gut, you should not have gotten up this morning. But, you have more important things to do then laying around and delaying the inevitable. So, you do get up, and at this point you just want to lay back on the bed and not get up at any time in the next twenty four hours. 

"Master (your last name), how was your day?" Jarvis asked, his lovely accent and kind question normally would have gotten an at least decent answer, but you just grunt. He takes that as a clue to stop asking, so he does and takes you to your floor. Not even waving to Natasha as she passes, you just slink to your room and go directly to your bed. Blasting music is the only thing that really heals a broken heart.

\---

"We've got a code red emotional issue on our hands" Romanov says as she sits down on the couch. Steve and Tony are just lounging in the living room, it was a normal for the super solider, but the genius caught her by surprise. Normally he didn't even peek a finger out of his lab unless he had to use the restroom, and at the very late nights when he was so mind dead he couldn't sleep but couldn't work.

"From who?" Steve asks, genuinely concerned, he was close with nearly everyone in the tower. 

"(Y/n), you're better at either of us at this sort of thing, you should do the talking."

Steve didn't disagree, so he stands and nods toward the general direction of your room.

"I'm guessing the best place to find a sad person is under their covers?"

Natasha simply nods.

\---

Hearing a knock at the door, you only lift your head slightly. The music had hardly paused for a second, good thing they knocked when they did.

"Yes?" 

"Can I come in?" It's Steve, and his constant worry is seeping through his voice. 

"I guess" you call, pressing your head into a pillow and sighing out. This is the worst part of being sad, the confrontations. But, if anyone had to check on you, you're glad it's Steve. The door opens, so you tilt your head to the side to look at him out of respect. He smiles, and it feels like he's pinched the inside of your chest, he's giving you pity. You're not sure if you like it yet, but you take it. Turning down your music just enough to hear him, and he seems to appreciate that much.

"Romanov said you had a rough day" Steve clarifies, closing the door behind himself and sitting down on the edge of your bed. You sigh, and press yourself more into the pillow, letting that be answer enough.

You have to give him credit, he's determined, almost annoyingly so. The look in his eyes stating he wants you to talk about it, and your guess is until then, he won't leave.

"Just a shitty day, we all have them" you insist, turning up your music again. It startles you when your headphones are taken out of your phone, sending the music into open air. Tenerife Sea by Ed Sheeran is just beginning to play, and you feel vulnerable, like every thought in your mind is on flashing sign. Your music is the key to your soul, or so you thought. He had tugged them out, and he was looking at you, as if he expected you to be something. So you do, you glare at him. Steve smiles and wraps his arms around you in a hug, it keeps you together better than any words he could have used.

Should this be the last thing I see, I want you to know it's enough for me.

He lifts you up suddenly, and you feel like he's gripping your lungs through your chest.

"Mr. Rogers!" You gasp, making him laugh. Pressing you to his chest, he starts to sway, is he trying to get you to dance? You follow his lead, swaying along with him. Normally, you hated dancing, even swaying back and forth, but it felt a lot different with Steve. Inexperienced, but carefree, and that's something your day needs. So you just swing away your problems, with Steve's unspoken ones. 

The song changes, but neither of you pay too much attention, your phone shifts into your calming playlist. Before you know, it's stopped, and started over again at the top. His hands had found their way to your sides, and yours had found a home against his chest, your face is brushing the side of his neck with every motion. He's cozy, almost like you belong in his arms, and that makes you smile. 

Noticing your smile against his skin, he pulls back to look. His eyes scan yours, and he smiles warmly back at you.

"What'd you pull away for?" 

"Any time I have the chance to see you smile, I have to take it, especially on these bad days."

You roll your eyes fondly at him, and he laughs, pressing your face back into the skin of his neck. Comfortable music, warmth, the feeling of being wrapped up in each other and being so intertwined, and the simple sway of your hips. It's exhausting, before you know it, it's a melody of it's own, your favorite type. The ones that linger in your dreams, and warm your skin with feeling. It's a lullaby, and it's capturing every wish out of your head.

And in a moment, I knew you better.

"Tired?"

"Mmm?"

Steve chuckles, stopping his sway, still holding you tight. 

"You look pretty exhausted, I mean, not that you don't look good or anything, I just-" he stammers quickly, making you cover his lips with your thumb, effectively quieting his nervous vibe. You pull him gently with you to your bed, and he's sweating like a whore in church.

"Sleep with me" you manage through a yawn, gaining a blush from his cheeks. 

"W-what?"

"Lay down and cuddle with me, dork."


	4. The Scientist: Bruce

There are people everywhere, and you don't remember inviting half of these people. Damn college parties always end up this way, and by the looks of it, you're going to be doing hours of cleaning. 

No, hell no. It was Natasha's idea to have the party in the first place, so she can do it her damn self. The perks of having a roommate with just enough class to cover her ass. The music is igniting the room and is having some sort of heat-like effect. Hips grinding, skin to skin contact, even moans sometimes. By all means, you just want out of there as soon as you can step a foot out. You weave through the crowds of people, the hallways feel like they are thinning, and with every blink, there's a new person in front of you.

"Hey, (y/n)! Where you goin'?" Comes Natasha's voice, but the music is an excuse to give her later for not turning around. The smell of alcohol is practically vibrating throughout the room, if it was possible to get a contact buzz from it, you'd black out, not to mention the high clouds of smoke. It's sickening just how easily you can loose yourself in this situation, it feels like a whole life you've missed out on, but you don't mind it at all. 

You don't exactly remember opening the door to outside, but you stumble into fresh air as if it's saving grace. Pressing your face into the outside of the house, you pant heavily, your lungs feeling violated. The only thing keeping you calm is how tight your eyes are closed, helping you forget this is really happening.

"U-um, excuse me" comes a sudden voice. Is the wall moving now? Holy hell, it must really be a contact high or some shit. Opening your eyes, you notice you're not against a wall at all, and in fact nuzzled into someone's chest. 

"O-oh, sorry" you manage in a voice that sounds much stronger than you actually feel. Backing up a bit, you notice the stranger you decided to lean into, was not a bad choice at all. Dark curls frame his tanned face, his eyes just a few shades darker than his skin, average weight, in kissing range tall. Wait, what? A smile spreads across his face, and it is nothing less than the cliche 'it could light up a room'. You knew him from somewhere, but you can't be too sure in this situation. You'd met quite a few guys meeting the whole 'long, tan, and handsome' criteria.

"Looks like it's quite some party" he remarks, noticing your dazed state. 

"You have no idea, hey wait, are we in a class together?" 

"I think I'd remember you if we did, maybe you're thinking we have 'chemistry' together?"

"Hmm, subtle science jokes, and not too bad to look at, you're not half bad. What's your name?"

"Bruce Banner, and you are?"

"(Y/n)."

\---

Turns out, Bruce is easy going, funny, and just as charming as his original pick up line had been. You easily picked up on how enticingly intelligent he is, and you're not sure how girls and guys alike aren't crowding him. He'd mentioned something about 'being invited by his playboy science partner' but also not being 'the party type'. Whatever that means.

"They're actually playing a slow song in there, wonder how many people are still grinding on each other" you joke, and that gains a small laugh from him.

"Plenty, I'm sure. Guys are all about dancing dirty, especially at parties" he says, and it's almost as if he's challenging you or something. It sends a spark of interest down your spine, and you smirk.

"But not you, right?"

"Of course not, actually I'm more of a slow dance sort of person" Bruce admits, and you can tell his face is warm just by the way he's looking at his feet.

"You're joking!" You practically shout, and he glances up from under his lashes.

"Think you could yell any louder, my ego didn't feel that enough" he says sarcastically, and his awkward laugh is even more endearing than you'd originally thought. You take his hands, and before he can protest, you place them on your sides. Slipping closer, you get your arms around his neck comfortably, and you can hear the hitch in his breath.

"I think I need to test this hypothesis, Banner."

"We have common ground in the flirting department" he notes, and you laugh genuinely.

To your surprise, Bruce starts up the easy sway, and your body follows on instinct. 

You'd never believed in losing yourself in a world of your own with someone else, up until now. Both of you are exploring this whole separate planet, and everyone that was around become background noise.

_Come up to meet you, tell me I'm sorry. You don't know how lovely you are._

Even the song is going deaf to your ears, and his smile is a song of it's own. You can't help but move closer to him, and you could drown in everything that is, was, and will be Bruce Banner. There's no way that any other place could satisfy you as much as being in his arms. It feels like your eyes have become focused on finding every speck in his. 

_I was just guessing at numbers and figures. Pulling your puzzles apart. Questions of science, science and progress. Do not speak as loud as my heart._

Thank you Natasha for your stupid party. For the contact buzzes and grinding. But especially, for this moment.


	5. Culture Royalty: Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are in love with this oaf, damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not technically song lead, but here. Take this. It's nearly 10 AM and I've been up all night. I figured I'd write. I hope you enjoy!

A kingdom full of noble men, powerful, honorable. Yet, you can't stop staring at the blonde oaf nearby as he takes another chug of beer. Growing up in Asgard, you always looked up to the royal family just as you should, and the prince that you grew older with. In fact, since the day you met him, you'd been best friends. It wasn't hard to grow fond of his constant jests, his charming personality, and you have the right to say his looks. More than just his blonde curls, blond hair, and the facial hair you absolutely adored when it brushed your face when he'd drank too much and hugged you tight. Thor was attractive in the way he looked to you, the way he protected you all those times when no one else would have. A true man fit for the throne. But he'd never see fit to wed you, because what did you have to offer? Besides the vibes of friendship, the memories, the jokes.

Nothing.

You took a drink to that thought, sighing under your breath as you sink back into your chair. 

Confidence is your best asset, and with that, you have so much possibility in meeting other people. But despite all the people you had distracted with yourself over the years, the blonde found his entrance in your head, and despite your pleas, he took over. You are how Midgardians say 'head over heels' in love with this idiot, and it's hard to ignore your feelings toward him when he tilts his head back and lets out a chuckle. Fandral was probably addressing his most previous lay, telling some pointless jest, but his happiness made you happy. 

Ever since his brother, Loki, had been sentenced to stay in Joutunheim, it was rare to see times like this. Were he can relax, have fun, get his mind off of his family for at least the majority of the time. Seeing Thor starting to make his way to you, you distract yourself, eyes on the drink in your hand. It's not even that appalling of a flavor, but it relaxed you for the moment. You could still think clearly, only a few sips had try to drown out those thoughts. You'd learned that after too many of the damned things, you'd never forget the way he made you feel, drinking beer can only solve a small amount of things.

"You seem troubled, (y/n), did a man deny you of a dance?" For a God that drank enough to black out a human, he's speaking clear enough to understand. 

"No man denies me of what I want" you insist, offering a hint of a smile on your lips. Except you, of course, you glorious thunder head. Damn what you'd give to capture his laughter somewhere to keep on bad days, especially the laugh he gives you, genuine and understanding. He, of all people, know that you do not take well to other people's fatal flaws. Not exactly high standard upkeep, at least in your eyes, the man you'd chose had to have the ability to do more than look good. Something that didn't overlook Thor in the slightest, you wish he knew that much.

A new song starts from the corner, a dwarf playing a simple tune with a whistle instrument, gaining attention from everyone. No one seems to mind it too much attention, so he continues along with the melody. Every note is a reminder not to look up and get caught in the stare that Thor is burning into you. If you got stuck there, you don't think it would be easy to get out of it. 

"Excuse me" you manage, as strong as you think as you can be, standing to your feet. Despite the situation, you can't stop thinking about the thoughts of him that are slowly driving you mad, and you can't even maintain eye contact without feeling the urge to pull those redden lips into yours. His firm hand grabs your arm before you can even make it a few steps away from him.

"What is the matter tonight, (y/n)?" You can hear the concern in his voice, and it pinches your chest like nothing you'd ever felt before.

"Nothing" you insist, catching that the music has progressively gained new members. A few feet taps here and there, a whistle or two, a shout of joy. Thor seems to notice it too, but he's still staring right at your face. You don't dare look up, because every inch of you is on edge just from his touch on your skin, and you don't want to imagine how hard it will be to resist him if his eyes are scanning yours. His mouth is in a firm line, and he can see right through you, what made you think you could hide this from him?

"Dance with me" he says suddenly, seemingly startling himself more than you.

"I do not dance, Thor" you argue, half tempted to pull your arm away. The contact of his hand is sending chills and your skin is even sticking up in bumps to be closer to him. 

"Just once?" You can deny that unintentional pout nothing, so you sigh. You're getting used to defeat at this point. With the music hitching in witness, you let him lead you to a more spacious area. Curse him and his beauty.

"I don't know how to dance" you admit as you feel your stomach internally flinch when his hands press to your sides. Is the music getting louder, or are you just noticing how loud it's been?

"It is not complicated, I was forced to learn for formal dances" he admits. You don't doubt it, especially considering his royalty status. He takes your hands and places them on the ends of his shoulders. He steps between both feet, swaying his hips in the slightest amount to keep a rhythm. In every word you can think of, it's almost sinful to you, watching him move in such a way. You force your feet to move in the same way, and you make fast work of learning.

"See, you are easily taught" Thor assures after a moment. You glance up, and right away, you realize that was a mistake. His eyes are bordering into yours and his lips are pressed into a grin, and so you get on your toes and press your lips to his. For a moment he seems like he's debating it in his head, but he kisses back either way, apparently making a decision with himself. 

You did not realize so many people were staring until whistling is heard from all across the room.

"There you go, prince!"

"Finally!"

"When did they become more than friends?"

Pulling away, both of you with heated cheeks and awkward laughter.


	6. Come On Eileen: Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha isn't much for slow dancing. But you try anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn't know exactly how to do this at first but I hope the idea isn't too out of the bag strange. I liked it either way and I hope you guys enjoy. It might be a bit short and sort of crappy, but it's the best I can do for now, who knows I might edit it. Anyway, I think I'm finished with this little series. Send me some prompts down below, even though I have some to work on already.

"Do I look like a dancer?" 

"No, but Fury asked me to teach you."

"I don't understand why I can't be the odd ball out of the party and just get the target alone, kill him..."

"Because if you're not dancing, it could signal to the enemy that you stand out. He knows that we're after him. We can't risk it just because you don't want to dance with me."

"It's not you, I just have never really done it before."

"Well, there's always a first time" you assure, smiling warmly at her. Hesitant at first, she starts to close the space between the two of you. Placing her hands on your shoulders, and moving to put yours on her waist, knowing you better not push any luck you have. 

Actually, Fury hadn't exactly asked you specifically, but when offered the chance to be alone with her...Well how could you resist? 

"You look more nervous than I do" she says, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"It's not exactly every day I have to teach a trained, former USSR agent how to slow dance." She laughs, knowing that in any other context that would sound strange. 

"I need a beat to go along with, give me a minute" you insist, going to put some kind of music on. The first song that really catches your eyes is a classic, Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners, and you're curious if she knows it. Shrugging off the thought, you click it. 

Starting off, Natasha looks confused, but then smiles like she has a secret she's not willing to admit.

"Not exactly a slow song, but I'll take it" she assures as you come back and get into positioning. The music picks up, so you step along to the beat, and Natasha attempts to follow. For the first few moments, she looks like she's frustrated, but she's picking up the beat better each time. So you're not worried she'll beat you up for making this too complicated, at least not yet. Getting more comfortable, she wraps her arms around your neck, you keep your hands firm on her sides. 

_At this moment, you mean everything._

Both of your steps start getting wobbly from the change in speed that the beats are coming in. She steps on your foot, laughing too hard to apologize, so you don't hold it against her. Seeing her smile and being the cause of her laughter was more than apology, more than meaningful. The air has changed from awkward shifting to actual playful stepping around each other. You can't even count the pace in your head in the moment, and mission be damned, you two were actually having fun. This is exactly the opposite of what you thought would happen. You figured she'd roll her eyes and quit within a moment or two, or tell Fury she'd cancel the mission.

_Come on Eileen, too-ra-loo-ra._

The beat slows, but you both know it's building back up, and it's going to be too difficult to even try to 'slow' dance. As much as you'd like to keep in contact with her skin, she's smirking like she's going to jump out of her skin and into the song. So, you let her go, and both of you break into completely separate dances. She holds her hands out for you to grab once the pace is getting faster, and you have no reason in mind why you wouldn't take them, so you do.

_Oh, Eileen._

Soon you two are laughing and running around in circles together, fingers intertwined. Laughter is a new lyric, added as the swinging gets to a point where your head is bogging and dizzy. But you don't care at all about any of it, and by the upturn of her lips and the words coming from them, neither does she.

Letting go of each other's hands, you both scramble to get your balance back. Your breathless from laughter and the exertion of running around so fast, and she's panting and holding her stomach tight. 

"I told you two to slow dance!" Comes a warning voice from the doorway. Apparently all the commotion had called a pissed looking Fury, the consequence would be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I had an original idea of Avenger/reader slow dances. So this is part one. If you have any suggestions for a prompt or just an idea, shoot it down below. Thank you for reading.


End file.
